Anger Management
by lucklessdreamer
Summary: It feels too good - the way their bodies slide angrily together, pushing and pulling - it almost feels like yelling and screaming the way they move - but it's a much better release.


A/N: This is pretty much just gratuitous smut. No spoilers - as long as you've seen the first season, you're golden.

**Anger Management**

The Lima Synagogue is almost always empty on Tuesday evenings. So, as Rachel makes her way swiftly towards Rabbi Greenburg's office, her steps falling softly on the tiled floor, she does not expect to find anyone else waiting. But when she rounds the corner, she discovers a very familiar profile hunched over in a chair outside the rabbi's office that causes her to skid to a stop.

She's silent at first, just studying the hard set of his jaw and the curl of his hands against his thighs. She considers turning and leaving the way she came, but she finally steps forward and manages a soft, "Hello, Noah."

Puck's eyes flicker up towards her and he greets her with a tight nod, watching as she takes the hard plastic chair beside him.

In her seat, she shifts uncomfortably, smoothing her short skirt over her thighs. When she glances over at him, his eyes quickly flit away from her.

"Having a good summer?" she asks.

He grunts in response, keeping his eyes focused on the closed door to the rabbi's office ahead of him.

Rachel rolls her eyes and the silence in the hall lingers between them. As she nervously tucks a strand of hair behind her ear (the silence makes her uncomfortable) she ventures, "So… what are you doing here?"

"My mom made me come," he answers shortly.

"Oh. My dads made me come, too," she volunteers. "They seem to think that I have some residual anger issues and could benefit from the anger management classes that Rabbi Greenburg teaches here."

"Yeah," Puck sighs, leaning back against his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "My mom thinks I've got um, anger issues, too. She threatened to take my x-box away if I didn't come."

"Well, what do you know, Noah Puckerman, we actually have something in common."

"Uncontrollable anger?" he deadpans.

Rachel smiles, despite herself and bows her head, tugging at her skirt again.

"Screw this," he says suddenly. "Let's just blow this off and go somewhere else.

Her head snaps in his direction. "What?"

"This is dumb. Talking to some rabbi isn't going to do a damn thing." He leaps to his feet and extends his hand to her. "Come on."

"Noah, I don't know…"

"Come on," he prods again.

They hear the door handle of the rabbi's office jiggle and before Rachel can think of a good reason to say no, she's placing her hand in his and they're running out of the synagogue together.

Puck drives them to a place he knows just beyond the limits of Lima.

He pulls his truck along a dirt road and stops when it opens to a field circled by trees. It's early in the evening, but there are dark clouds looming overhead, threatening rain and only allowing slivers of sun to shine through.

"Where are we?" Rachel asks when he cuts the engine.

He shrugs. "I come here sometimes. To think or whatever."

"It's pretty."

"Yeah."

Silence reigns inside the cab of the truck as they both remain on their respective sides, not touching and only looking straight ahead.

But there's a sharp clap of thunder and it has Rachel squeaking in surprise and inching closer to Puck.

He just laughs and looks down at her and says matter-of-factly, "Probably gonna rain soon." And then he begins to count, slowly: "one-one thousand, two-one thousand, three one-thousand, four-one thousand, five-one thousand" and stops when the thunder sounds again. "Storm's close - 'bout five miles."

Rachel nods, swallowing hard, the space between them suddenly feeling small.

"Did you want to talk about it?" she tries gently.

"What?"

"About why your mom thinks you need anger management?"

"No," he tells her sharply, definitively. He watches as her face falls. "Do you?"

She looks away and tells him softly, with a sharp intake of breath, "It's my mom."

"Right," he breathes in understanding.

"It's hard not being wanted." She looks at him again with wide, watery eyes. "Especially when that person is the one person who should want you the most."

He instinctually scoots closer to her, slinging his arm across the back of the seat behind her, his fingers dangling above her shoulder.

"I feel so guilty talking to my dads about it because they do want me. And Finn doesn't get it because his dad didn't have a choice when he left him."

Puck's finger graze the top of her shoulder, bare save for the thin strap of her tank top. "I get it."

Rachel smiles sadly at him. "Maybe it would be different if I knew she didn't want a child, but obviously she did - she wanted your child. Just not me." Her hands ball into fists at her sides and she slams them into the cloth of the seat beneath her. "She didn't want me and she left me… twice. I am her daughter and I wasn't enough for her."

"I'm sorry, Rachel," he manages genuinely.

She sucks in a steadying breath and whispers a thank you.

"It's kind of fucked up, isn't it? Your mom has my daughter. Kind of like she's your… sister or something. Damn, that's dysfunctional."

Rachel cracks a smile as she considers the insanity of their situation and she replies with a breathy laugh.

Her laugh shakes her shoulders and causes Puck's fingers to press more firmly against her skin. She glances to the side and notices his touch for the first time (she was too caught up in her tirade to realize before). But he emits a heat from just the pads of his fingers that rolls down her spine and causes her belly to coil in anticipation (though she's not entirely sure what, exactly, she should be anticipating).

"That's why you're so angry, isn't it?" she prods. "Because of the baby."

He draws away from her, returning his hands to the steering wheel so that he can hold onto something. His grip is so tight that his knuckles whiten.

"I told you I didn't want to talk about it."

"It seems fair. I told you why I'm angry and now it's your turn. This is suppose to be anger management, remember? We might as well make good use of our time and work out our anger so our parents are none the wiser that we ditched class with Rabbi Greenburg."

"I didn't bring you out here to share feelings and shit."

"Then why did you bring me out here, Noah?" she demands. "You could have just as easily come alone." Rachel creeps closer to him and lays a soft hand on his straining arm. "It might help - to talk about it."

He slams his hand against the steering wheel, causing her to reel back, before he's pushing against the door of the truck and storming out into the open field.

His slammed door causes the old truck to rattle, but Rachel's after him in an instant, rushing around the truck to meet him somewhere in the middle.

Even in the early evening, with dense gray clouds hovering close, it's still stifling hot. The air is thick and heated around them, almost suffocating.

"It's just… fuck," he swears. "We could have tried. Just tried to raise her. Maybe we would have been shitty parents, but… I would have stuck around. Now she's going to think I never wanted her."

"Noah," she tries, rushing towards him, but he bangs a fist down onto the hood of his truck and it keeps her a safe distance away.

"She's my daughter and I will never know her. She'll never know how much…" A sob tears from the back of his throat and he adds so quietly that she can barely hear him, "she'll never know how much I love her."

"She will," Rachel insists, stepping closer, no longer deterred. "She has to."

"God. I hate this," he yells, his voice echoing. "I hate that Quinn picked this for me. I'm just so…"

"Angry?" she supplies.

"Yeah," he nods in agreement. "I'm so angry."

"I'm sorry," she whispers brokenly. "I'm so sorry, Noah."

Puck looks at her - really looks at her - the quick rise and fall of her chest and her big brown eyes, filled with something that looks a lot like understanding. The strands of sun that still filter through the gray clouds overhead cast her in a golden hue. And all he can do is hurry to where she stands, take her swiftly into his arms, and crash his lips over hers before she can even think to protest.

His mouth slides angrily over hers, telling her in this way the anger he can't convey with words. It's hard and fierce, the way he kisses her. He drags her tightly against his body as he bruises her lips with his own.

"Noah," she gasps, pushing at his chest and tearing her mouth from his.

"Rachel, I…"

He knows he should apologize - explain that it was the anger coursing through him that caused him to act out - but when he glances down at her lips, swollen and parted, he's kissing her all over again. Gentler this time, but just as insistent. He feels her hands at his chest, ready to push him away again, so he wraps his arms even more securely around her waist and traces the line of her lips with his tongue.

She gives in with a sigh, melting against him as her hands fall futilely to her sides. She opens her mouth to him, welcoming his tongue. Their tongues duel together in a heated battle and Rachel's reasonably sure that no one has ever kissed her quite like this before - angry and passionate and, oh, the kind that sparks something in the pit of her belly and pulls at that place between her legs.

Puck hauls her up his body - her legs wrap easily around his hips - and he walks them into his truck, leaning her against the side and pressing into her body while he nips at her lips.

He drags his mouth from hers, long enough to pull in a staggered breath of the heated air (which only adds to the burn in his lungs) before he trails his lips down the column of her exposed throat. He hears her moan lowly when he bites at the flesh between her neck and shoulder and spreads a wicked grin across his lips. Encouraged, he slides his hands up her sides, to her breasts, and palms them roughly through the fabric of her tank.

All the logical parts of her are telling her to stop him, but her body's screaming at her to continue. It feels too good - the way their bodies move angrily together, pushing and pulling - it feels almost like yelling and screaming the way they move - but it's a much better release.

Rachel grips at the short hair at the back of his neck and pulls his mouth back to hers for a searing kiss. Puck's hands drift beneath her top, his hands stroking the hot expanse of her belly while his fingers fan upwards, brushing the undersides of her breasts (she's not wearing a bra below her tank top).

While Rachel peppers the side of his jaw with quick, staccato kisses, his fingers find her nipple and pull at the hardened tip. Her teeth score his chin and she inhales sharply at the sensation that shoots straight between her thighs.

"Noah," she breathes, but she can't finish the thought - can't even remember it - when he covers her mouth with his and moves against her, grinding his erection against her in a way that only fans the fire burning within her.

Puck's hands reach down to her ass, pulling her hard against him and smiling when she hears her gasp as he presses right where she wants him the most. They move together at the same hurried pace, creating the most delicious friction even through layers of clothing.

There's another peal of thunder, but they just cling tighter to each other.

When Rachel feels something wet splash against her cheek, she'd almost swear it was Puck's tears (or her own - this is intense the way they're giving and taking) but her eyes pull skywards and she sees the dark clouds directly overhead now, threatening even more rain at any second.

"It's going to pour," she tells him and it stills his movements against her.

He nods, agreeing. "We can…" He presses into her again, skating his lips over her cheek and collecting the wetness from the fallen raindrop. "If you want."

"Yeah," she breathes, shuddering against him and then a more definitive, "Yes."

He releases her from his arms and she slides down her body, her legs feeling shaky once her feet touch the ground. But Puck's there, taking her hand, and holding her up.

"Wait," she cries, pulling on his hand. Puck feels the blood begin to drain, scared she's going to come to her senses and tell him what a mistake this would be. But instead, she says quietly, with lowered eyes, "Finn can never know."

It feels something like déjà vu to Puck, but he shakes it off and nods, pulling her inside the cab of his truck.

He's gathering her into his arms and their lips are meeting in the middle just as the sky opens up and the rain begins to fall down in heavy sheets, creating a near-deafening pitter-patter on the truck.

Puck lowers her down against the bench seat, covering her body with his own. He kisses down her body - the slope of her shoulder, the line of her collarbone, through the valley of her breasts - until he reaches the hem of her top. He runs his nose along where her belly is exposed and gradually pushes her top up, his lips following in the wake.

When her top is off, forgotten on the floorboards, he leans down and captures one rosy nipple on his mouth. Rachel arches up against him, her nails scouring the back of his head as he laves the tight little bud with his tongue. He marks a wet trail across her body when he moves to her other breast.

Rachel shivers, despite the heat inside the truck, when his lips coast down her body. He skims over seemingly every bare part of her, drawing nonsensical lines as he goes.

She lifts her hips, her body working counterpoint to her head, when he tugs at her skirt and pulls it and her panties down in one fluid movement. When he looks down at her with hungry eyes, licking at his lips, it registers that she should feel some shred of embarrassment - being naked before this boy in his truck - but all she can really feel is a sense of exhilaration as he looks down at her and she awaits his next touch.

Puck tugs off his shirt, tossing it to join her clothes on the floorboards. She reaches out to him, her hands ghosting over his chest and torso. She pushes up and places a sweet kiss on his chest, right next to his heart.

He's straining against his shorts, uncomfortably hard, but he only strokes his hand over the front of his shorts twice before he lays her back against the seat.

"Ever have this done to you before?" he asks as he scoots down her body, a glint in his eye.

She's about to ask what he means, but he's parting her thighs and swiping his tongue against her before she can even form the words - and when he does that, it's all over. There's only static where thoughts once were, it sounds something like the rain outside, pelting her with pleasure and the only thing on the tip of her tongue now is: Noah, Noah, Noah.

Rachel moans deep from inside herself (she doesn't even recognize it as herself when she hears it echoing inside the truck) and her legs fall open, one against the seat and the other rests on the steering wheel, eagerly welcoming everything he has to give her. He uses his tongue to trace patterns across her sex, eliciting a new sound with each figure he makes.

Puck slides one arm underneath her, wrapping it firmly around her hips to hold her in place. With the other, he uses his fingers on her, joining his mouth to tease the swollen skin there. He pulls her clit into his mouth just as he slides a finger into her slick heat. She's so tight, but so wet, that his finger slides easily enough.

"Oh god, Noah," she screams mindlessly, her body bowing off the seat.

He slows his movements until she relaxes back down. He glances up at her and smiles when her hand curves around the back of his neck. She returns his smile, but when he hits a sweet spot with his tongue, her head tips back and she's left gasping for breath.

His finger continues to work inside of her, stroking, while he nips and licks at her. When she feels her body begin to shake, a telltale sign of her impending orgasm, he adds a second finger and sucks hard at her clit.

She comes just as he expects her to - loud and passionate - just as intense as she is. She thrashes against him, singing out a string of incoherent vowels and maybe even his name (or something that sounds a lot like fuck). The rain outside is loud, but she's even louder. He holds her down, continuing to move his fingers and mouth against her until she finally stops shaking.

Puck's painfully hard now, making Rachel Berry easily ranks in the top three of the sexiest things he's ever done, but instead of doing something to ease the ache, he eases himself up and lays his head against her breast, listening to her heart hammer beneath his ear as her arms come to wrap around him.

"Noah," she breathes and he lifts his head to meet her eyes. She pulls him to her, pressing her lips to his and licking into his mouth. She tastes herself on his tongue and it empowers her.

Rachel fit's a hand between their bodies, undoing his shorts before reaching a hand inside. She touches him through the fabric of his boxers. Though she is hesitant, she follows his cues and it's not long before he's lowering his head to her shoulder and panting hotly against her skin.

She takes her hand away only to help push his shorts and boxers down his legs. He kicks them away and presses against her when they're gone, both moaning lowly when skin meets skin for the first time. He pulses between her thighs, she's so wet and so hot that it takes everything within him not to shift just so to be right where he wants to be.

He hitches her thigh over his and he's so lost in the feel of her body against his that he's almost pushing into her before her voice interrupts with a reasonable question like, "Do you have a condom?"

"Shit. Yeah, yeah…" He pushes away from her and searches desperately through his shorts to find his wallet. He finds it and plucks out the prized condom. Sitting back against the seat, he quickly opens the package and rolls the condom over his erection.

Rachel pushes onto her knees, watching him with awe. She moves towards him, her knees touching his thighs, and she releases a shuddering breath against his neck. Her heart begins to kick and her nerves begin to unravel.

"Hey," Puck rasps. His hand comes to her hip and he squeezes softly. "Have you done this before?"

She lowers her head, her face covered by a veil of dark hair. "No."

"Not even with…" He doesn't dare say his name, but they both know who he means.

She lifts her head, her eyes meeting his. "Not with anyone."

"But you're sure?" he asks seriously, his hand curling around her neck and his thumb stroking the line of her jaw.

"Yes," she answers, reinforcing her words by swinging her leg over his thighs, straddling him. "I'm sure."

He kisses her hotly, slipping two fingers back into her body - testing, teasing.

"Please," she sighs.

Puck pulls his fingers from her body and places his hands on her hips, guiding, as she lowers herself onto him. Despite the initial shock of pain when their bodies first join together, she pushes until they're completely connected. She stills, then, reeling at the sensation.

It's indescribable. The feeling of being together with someone like this - having them touch you in those deep, dark places that you didn't even know existed until they came along. It's happiness and sadness, pleasure and pain, exhilaration and fear, all rolled into one overwhelming phenomenon.

Her head falls forward, her forehead leaning against his, and with her eyes snapped close, they share a serrated breath. Her hands clutch at his shoulders for purchase to the earth. She feels as though she could blow away at any second, just wash away with the rain, straight up into the dark gray clouds.

"You okay?" he asks in a labored breath, pushing her hair from her face and gathering it in a fist at the back of her neck.

She nods tightly, eyes still closed as her body adjusts and she tells herself to relax. Rachel pushes up before sinking down again. The pain begins to lessen, replaced with a slow burn that she feels absolutely everywhere. It radiates between her legs, but shoots sparks from the tips of her toes to the top of her head.

"Look at me," Puck demands, gripping her hips to still her movements until she opens her eyes on him - dark and heavy-lidded.

Rachel opens her mouth to speak - to convey to him just how it feels to be connected to him in this way, but the words are lost and all she can do is take in deep drags of the heavy air inside the truck.

With her eyes opened, she watches as he leans into her, his lips ghosting over hers. He nips at her bottom lip and then soothes it with his tongue. His arms wrap around her waist, tugging her even more firmly against his body.

She begins again.

Using his shoulders to anchor herself, they set a rhythm together. His hips snap up to meet her every time she comes down.

Their movements create a slow ache between her legs. Her head buzzes with static and all she can feel and hear is Puck. Not even the sound of the rain outside penetrates. Her mind is consumed with the sound of his labored breathing against her shoulder and the unmistakable sound of their bodies joining, time and time again.

As their moves become more hurried, she collides with the steering wheel behind her. "Ow," she laughs, stopping again.

Puck rubs at her backside where the offending steering wheel hit her. He pauses, just for a beat, before he's got her in his arms and he's laying her down across the bench seat, anchoring her body with his. He pushes inside of her again and Rachel swears she sees stars this time - he's even deeper than before, touching places within her that she didn't even know existed.

"Oh, shit, Rach," he groans and Rachel knows he's seeing the same stars.

She wraps herself around him, their bodies touching everywhere, with her arms wound around his back and her thighs squeezing her hips as he drives into her, over and over.

Rachel Berry is a control freak, but she follows his lead for this. He sets the rhythm, but it is an easy one for her to match. She thinks it's just like learning a new dance - learning the new moves, moving your body in just the right way, and keeping perfect time with your partner.

They always were well-matched - equals in so many ways - and she believes this is no different. It's no wonder they come together so easily, their bodies fit so perfectly together, like they're two pieces of a puzzle.

Puck's hand floats down her body, to where they're joined together, and he rubs two fingers over her clit. She feels that familiar pull in the pit of her stomach like she's on the verge of something really amazing - just like before when he used his mouth and hands (only better).

The quakes begin throughout her entire body and just when she feels like she's about to erupt, he tenses above her, just before bursting into a million pieces, shaking and calling out her name. He holds still for a moment, eyes clenched close, before collapsing on top of her.

"Jesus," he mutters against her breath, licking at the salty skin he finds there.

She holds to him tightly and she can feel his body shuddering against hers. There's still an ache between her legs, right where he still is between them, and she moves her hips experimentally, trying to chase it away.

"Gonna make you come," he murmurs sleepily against her damp skin.

He pulls out of her and she groans at the loss, her hips bucking up towards him, seeking some kind of contact. He laughs as he removes the condom off and shucks it to the floor.

Two fingers slide easily into her. He works them with finesse, quickening them in and out of her. Her hips ride them shamelessly, trying to push them as deeply inside of her as he was before. His thumb circles her clit in tight circles and that's all it takes before she's coming hard, her body bucking against his hand. She reaches for his wrist and wraps her fingers tightly around him, searching for something to hold onto while she goes down.

It's only when Puck removes his fingers that she's aware of the rain outside and the heat inside the truck and what just happened between them.

"Noah, I…"

He doesn't let her finish the thought, terrified of what she might say to ruin his post-orgasmic bliss, just covers her body and brands her lips with his. Their tongues mimic the dance their bodies just completed - the same push and the pull, the same give and take.

When he pulls away, he traces her bruised lips with the pad of his thumb and smiles.

"See?" he says cockily, a breathy laughing escaping his lips. "Wasn't this much better than anger management."

She returns his laugh easily. "I think this qualifies as anger management. We did work out a lot of aggression."

"You know," he murmurs huskily, dipping his head to press his lips to her neck. "My mom wanted me to go to classes three, maybe even five times a week."

Rachel knows this should never happen again. This boy is not her boyfriend, not really even a friend, but the way her body still sings from the feel of his hands and his mouth and his everything, makes her forget everything else. There's just him and the way he makes her feel and maybe it's not right, but it feels too good to lose.

"Funny," she quips, "My dads wanted me to work out all of this aggression at least five times a week. I am very angry, so it might even take more than that."

"Yeah, me too. Very, very, very angry," he mutters against her skin.

And then they both fall apart laughing until their lips meet again.


End file.
